Kurt's Letter
by VulcanCheesecake
Summary: Logan/Kurt. Logan's away for a while, so Kurt writes him a letter to describe his feelings. With a nice description of what they've done together!


As I sit here I think of you, Logan. All about you, because you're not here. Not now. And I miss you something terrible while you're gone. I can't think about you like this while you're here, because you seem to know what I'm thinking. You _know _me. Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself. When I stand by the window in the middle of the night, looking out across the silent grounds, missing the travelling life of the circus you wake up because I'm not there. You come and stand with me, and put your arm across my shoulders, and rest your face in my hair. "Missing being on the road, huh kid?" you say. "Me too." Then we go back to bed, and your arms stay around me, and I feel safe. So do you, Logan. I think I make _you _feel safe as much as you keep me. I'm something for you to hold on to. There are times when I fear you, Logan. I've seen the beast inside. The beast only I can tame. I've seen what you're like when taken over by anger. I've seen what it's like when you're taken over by sadness. But at those times, I know I shouldn't be scared. Those times I repay my debt to you. I keep you, comfort you. To give back those times you brush away my tears, when things get too much. You're one of the few people who are not driven away by the way I look. _Demon._ Demon they said. They still do, sometimes. You smiled at me when you first saw me. I remember what you said. "Hey Kid," you laughed. Then all those other nicknames, "Elf" or "Furball," but that's what you'd say to everybody. Maybe it's because we're _both _almost animal. Because we're _both _freaks. Even to other mutants. _Wolverine. Nightcrawler. _Our names sound strange and wrong. But it's okay. We're accepted, at least by most other mutants. But at the times when I am hated, I know you're there. At the times when you are hated, I'll be here. Because even _you, _Logan, even the one who heals, even the one who has lived alone for as long as he can remember, even you need love. You won't say the word, will you? Claim you never need it. You've lived without it for fifteen years. But you're not telling the truth. Maybe you've lived without it, but we both know you need it. All that time alone, you were aching inside. Needing what nobody would give. Even when you came here, you were grudgingly accepted. People began to like you, but the only one you wanted made a choice. And it wasn't you. But then you found me. I was brought back to this school. I met you. I knew I needed you. At first I thought you'd never look twice at me, never need me. But you smiled and you talked to me, and everyone was surprised, because you'd never been this friendly straight away with anyone. But you were with me. I wonder whether it was because we're similar. You heard the noise of my broken soul. I sensed yours. Together, we're healing. I remember that night. We went to the bar. We drank too much. Well, I did. You don't feel the effects of alcohol, your body heals itself. We went back to the school on the motorcycle you stole from Cyclops. I could hardly stand, and my tail would not behave. It seemed to want to curl around your legs, and was disobeying what I was trying to tell it to do. You were holding me up. I thought if you let go, I would fall on to the grass. But then my tail tripped us both, and we both fell on to the grass. You were on top of me; I remember the feel of the grass on my face, and your heavy warmth in the cool air. Then you looked down at me, and I felt it, stronger than ever. I wanted to touch you, so badly. I wanted to kiss you, but I knew you wouldn't speak to me again if I did. Everything, this friendship, understanding, would be ruined. Or so I thought. But then you moved. You kissed me first, and it was so good, so real, so _perfect_. I had never kissed anybody before, but you showed me, guided me, told me what I should do. I remember how it felt to have you touch my chest for the first time. I know you've touched me since, many times! But they say you always remember your fist time, and now I know why. Your hands slid up the baggy shirt I wore, cleaner than it had once been; the school has a washing machine, but still covered in stains that would never come out. Stains from my time with the circus, my tainted life of sin. They touched my stomach first, the cold of your fingers balancing the strange heat I felt inside for you. I knew what we were going to do, but even I was hesitant about it. I wanted it, of course I did; you could feel how much I wanted it. But I wouldn't even let you touch there straight away. Especially not out on the grass, when someone could come along at any moment. Because I was still worried about the sin. What God would say if He could see me. And I knew He could. We didn't say anything as you touched, but I stopped your hands from moving too far. You seemed to understand. I remember that you picked me up, and took me to your room. You set me down on your bed and took my shoes off for me. I took off my own jacket, but I just lay back on your bed stupidly. I wanted to know everything about you. I just kept smelling your room, all the _you _in it, Logan. You saw me and laughed. But it wasn't a cruel laugh. Then I knew I would go with it, I _wanted _to go with it, let you take me. But I was nervous. Perhaps, like a wolf, you smelt the fear on me. I know you sensed it. But when you put your arms around me again it was all okay. "I'll be gentle kid," you whispered. And you were. I was the one who started to get rough. I'm not proud of it, I bit you quite hard! But you healed. I had to let you bite me too, and the bittersweet pain was so nice. It was pleasure and sin and redemption all at the same time. Even now I'm still unsure; still get twinges of guilt when you touch me, when we kiss. When you take me. And every time I am your slave. I am completely yours. That night. That night we kissed and touched and bit. Then you did it to me. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt! I was sore for days afterwards. But it was a reminder, different to the scars I put into my skin. The sin too good to ignore. But after that night I had to cut another scar into my skin. But you can't see it. At least not when I have my clothes on. I still haven't told you the one you like to touch the most is especially _for _you. My scars remind me of the sin, but that one is my favourite too. The one that reminds me of my favourite wrong. It still hurts when you do it to me, but now it feels good too. We're both learning what pleases each other. There's still a lot for both of us to learn. I've learnt that through your tough exterior, and sometimes cold ways, there's a good man and friend, for everyone. There's a lost, broken soul that needs help to be complete again. Through the beast, is just a pussycat. I've seen the soft side of the Wolverine. The one that just wants holding in the deep hours of the morning. The one that just wants to walk and hold hands, but somewhere far away where we won't be seen. Nobody else has seen that side of you, not even Jean. I know it hurts when her name is spoken. But you don't show it. Not to the outside world. In our most private moments, sometimes you almost cry. Once you really did. That night we just stayed in each other's arms. When I think things like this, I'm kind of glad you aren't here! You'd tell what I was thinking and become that beast people think they know so well! Don't _you _think Logan, that we are a puzzle? We're two pieces of a jigsaw, and we fit together so well. I fit into your arms well, and our hips seem to join sometimes, just like puzzle pieces. Logan, I think of our times together and I ache for you. You've only gone for a few days, you'll be back soon, but you should see the state I've got myself into! Half of me is being quite childish, almost crying for you to come home, and half of me is being…decidedly more adult. Let's just say my tail isn't the only body part with a mind of its own! Someday you might find this. I find that writing down your thoughts can help sometimes. I have to tell someone this, but nobody at the school will understand. So I'll tell myself, in a way. On this little piece of paper, my soul, my heart, everything I feel seems laid bare. If you do find this Logan, I'm sure it will only tell you what you know. I _want _you to find this Logan. That's why I'm writing it in your room. I was telling myself that I was only in here so I could use a bigger desk, but it's because I want to be as close to you as possible. I'm leaving this out on your desk, everybody else knows better than to come in to your room without permission, especially when you're away. Besides, the door is locked. I had to look through the window so I could teleport in. You'll be angry at me for sitting in your room (I'm not going to go into any other details than sitting. You'll probably find out what else I've been doing anyway, your sense of smell is so much better than mine.), but you won't really be mad. I think you're secretly glad I've been in your room! Goodbye for now Logan; I'll see you soon. I know you'll see this first; you'll sneak back in when everyone else is asleep.


End file.
